Cold
by Miss Enthusiasimal
Summary: Tag/Missing Scene to 4x01 and 4x02 so it does contain spoilers! You have been warned! Merlin's thoughts from when he was attacked to the opening scenes of The Darkest Hour Part Two. One Shot. Non-Slash.


_**Cold **_

As the Dorocha passed through him all he felt was cold. The only time he could remember feeling this cold was once, when he was little, in Ealdor, when he had fallen through the ice during winter. He had nearly died. He should have died, but his magic had saved him.

The cold may have been the same, but the outcome would not be. His magic couldn't save him now. Soon, he would be dead.

But death hadn't come. He began to wonder whether or not he would ever be granted release from this deadly cold that pierced his skin.

He felt the faintness of warmth through his jacket. His thought processes were mucked up. Shouldn't he be dead by now? When did he end up on the floor? All he remembered was the air and the cold…

"Arthur," said the voice of Lancelot above him. "Arthur, he's still alive."

"What?" That was Arthur, but he sounded funny. It was clogged up, as though he had the flu.

"That's not possible," said Arthur from above him. His eyes were beginning to come into focus, and he could make out shapes above him.

He felt the tiniest amount of warmth on his neck. They-Lancelot or Arthur, he wasn't sure who- were checking his pulse.

"He's alive," Arthur said softly, and then, loud enough so the others could hear, "He's alive!"

"It's a miracle," said Gwaine, sounding thoroughly relieved.

"Why's he just staring off into space like that?" asked Elyan. "Why hasn't he spoken? Or even blinked?"

"Merlin?" asked Arthur, shaking Merlin's shoulder gently. "Can you hear me? If you can hear me, do something."

Merlin tried, oh he tried. But the cold was still there, clogging up his brain and fusing his joints.

"Nothing," said Arthur, sounding worried again. Damn it, when would his stupid eyes start working properly again.

"We have to warm him up," said Lancelot.

"What we need to do is get out of here," said Leon. "Before more Dorocha come back."

"Percival," commanded Arthur. "You'll carry Merlin back to the fire. I'll take the torch. The rest of you, pick up as much firewood as you can allow the way. But if it's outside the light, leave it."

Merlin felt the tiniest amount of warmth from what he assumed was Percival's body heat as he picked Merlin up. It was strange, he couldn't feel Percival- he was too numb for that- only that warmth and that rush of still air chilling him further as he was lifted into his arms.

He knew that he must look dead, limp in Percival's arms, frost covering his skin, his mouth and eyes wide open, staring into nothingness. But he was still trying to figure out how to blink. His eyes were starting to hurt and the blurry images he was receiving as Percival ran was making his head spin.

Time passed. He didn't know how much. Not long, he would assume. And then, finally, his instincts kicked in, and he blinked.

The relief was instantaneous. Tears moisturized his eyes and when he opened them less than a second later, he could see better. He could distantly feel water running down his face. He was defrosting. Maybe he could be warm soon. He hoped so. As he was, he felt too detached from the world and he had the sneaking suspicion that if his brain was working better, he'd be freaking out more.

"Quick, get the fire started," said Arthur, swinging the torch around like a madman. He must have been destroying the Dorocha, but he couldn't hear there screams anymore. Maybe he had become like they? Or maybe he had simply lost the ability.

He heard the frantic scratch of flint against stone as someone tried desperately to start the fire. But they weren't being very successful. How was it that he could hear all this, and yet still be deaf to the Dorocha?

Then the flint hit stone once more and –praying that no one was looking at his eyes- he gave the sparks a gentle nudge with his magic. Well, he may have lost most of his motor skills, but at least he still had magic.

There were cries of victory and Merlin felt the heat radiating from a spot to his right. It was comforting, the warmth. It was proof that he could still feel something.

"Arthur, I think he's moving," said Percival above him. When had he put him down?

"Merlin?" asked Arthur. Why couldn't he see him anymore? His vision had been improving had it not? Then he realized his eyes were closed. He must have fallen unconscious. Or perhaps it could be counted as sleep.

"Merlin, just…do something. Something to let us know you're still in there," said Arthur. He sounded desperate. Merlin tried again to do as his master wished. Just so he'd stop sounding that way. It was nice to know occasionally that Arthur cared but enough was enough.

He struggled for a moment, but then slowly but surely, he opened his eyes. It was blurry at first, but then Arthur's face came into view, a furrow in his brow and a worried look in his eyes as the sun began to rise behind them.

His eyes opened fully, adjusting to the light and Arthur smiled, laughing in his relief.

"Merlin," said Arthur. It wasn't a question, or a summoning. Just a statement that he was here and that he was alive.

"Cold," he croaked out, barely able to move his lips to form the words. He felt his eyes droop shut, but he kept them open.

"We figured," said Arthur. "We've got you as close to the fire as we can. And as many blankets as we could find in that atrocious packing of yours."

A faint grin ghosted across his face.

"It's good to have you back Merlin," said Lancelot somewhere to his right. They were still guarding the place with torches as well as the fire but they needed have bothered. The sun was casting a faint morning glow across the down ridden courtyard, casting shadows in its wake. The Dorocha were long gone.

In that moment he wondered where they went. Back through the veil? What would happen if they healed the veil, but the Dorocha didn't leave? A million questions ran through his mind until he realized something. He was dying. He may have gotten mildly better since the attack, but he could feel the cold returning and it was sapping away at his strength.

His eyes fell shut and when he awoke, it was daylight. The fire was out, but he had been given a blanket to keep him warm. On either side of him sat a knight, loaning their body heat to him.

"He's still freezing," said Gwaine. He opened his eyes, finding that he had strength now to do at least that. Upon doing this Gwaine cried, "Hey look who's awake!"

"Merlin, how are you feeling?" asked Arthur immediately. Was it just him, or was Arthur saying his name a lot lately?

"Cold," he said again. One syllable words it was, then.

"I'm sorry," said Arthur. "We debated starting up the fire again but we can't find any kindle anywhere."

"S'okay." Two syllables! He was getting better!

"Can you move at all?" he asked. Merlin felt the eyes of all the nights looking at him with pity. They knew he was dying, even if Arthur, Gwaine and Lancelot didn't want to accept it yet.

"No," he whispered. "Numb…cold…"

Arthur nodded and walked a short distance away with Sir Leon. He knew they were talking about him, but it would seem his super-hearing from before had disappeared. Did that mean he could hear the Dorocha again? He felt Gwaine get up and walk away, leaving it to Lancelot to keep him warm. He pulled up the blanket so it was at Merlin's chin, he murmured, "I'll be right back," then got up and walked over to Arthur.

No sooner had he left then he was replaced. Percival was next to him, he put an arm around Merlin's shoulders in an effort to keep both sides of him equally warm, but it was no use. He was still cold. Why couldn't he just be warm?

"It's going to be alright Merlin," he said.

"Percival, we're moving him," said Arthur.

"Where to?" asked the knight in question.

"To the horses," answered not Arthur, but Lancelot. "I'm taking him back to Camelot."

What? No! He was already dying! Gaius could do nothing. They may as well sacrifice him to heal the veil.

He was lifted once more, his arms and head dangling in the air. He was taken to his horse and with the help of Gwaine, Arthur and Percival, lifted onto her. He was hunched over, his face in the mare's mane. They were tying his hands to her so he wouldn't fall off. He felt Arthur's hand on his shoulder. He was being so gentle, as though he might break.

"This is my fault," he said. "And I'm sorry."

"Take me with you please," said Merlin. He sounded pathetic and he knew it. Any other time Arthur would be mocking him and calling him a girl.

"You'll die Merlin," said Arthur. Again with his name! He sounded so heartbroken when he said it. As though he had never thought that Merlin might die before. Which was perfectly plausible, since he had hardly ever gotten injured in the six years they'd known each other.

"You don't understand Prince Arthur," he said. Didn't they realize the opportunity they had? One dead, instead of two?

"Do you ever do as you're told?" asked Arthur, trying to banter like usual. But he ignored the attempt.

"I have to go with you," he pleaded, but Arthur interrupted him.

"Merlin," he said firmly. He looked like he was about to say something again, but someone from a distance interrupted them. Arthur looked at Merlin, looking more worried than he had ever seen him. He gripped Merlin's shoulder gently in farewell, he felt Gwaine do the same on the other side of the horse.

"Go," said Arthur.

And he was led away from his destiny.

**Okay so what do you think? It was written at midnight so I don't know how good it'll be. I've read through it twice but I am pretty tired so you'll just have to review and let me know won't ya? **


End file.
